Never Too Young For Murder
by CharlieCaller
Summary: Mark meets a young girl who is sharp as a tack. When her mother is murdered, she helps out and lands herself in trouble. I wrote this ages ago, so it ain't great. It's not intended to be a Mary-Sue, by the way.


Disclaimer: The characters of Diagnosis Murder do not belong to me, but they belong to Diagnosis Murder and its companies. The other characters belong to me.  
  
Author's Note: I wrote this, my very first ever fanfic, over one and a half years ago, so if you've read my more recent work, you can see how I've progressed. I know that it is not up to my current standard of writing, but I was a lot younger when I wrote this, so don't have a go at me. I thought I'd post it to see if anyone liked it.  
  
Never Too Young For Murder  
  
  
  
It was a sunny afternoon on the beach. Samantha Mitchell and her mother, Anne, were enjoying the sun. Sam was in the water when Dr. Mark Sloan walked down to the sea, and saw Anne. In his friendly way, Mark decided to go over and greet her.  
  
"Hi," he said, holding out his hand, "I'm Dr Mark Sloan. I live in that house over there."  
  
"Hi," Anne shook Mark's hand, "I'm Anne Mitchell. I live two streets away from here. I'm here with my daughter, Sam. She's in the water trying to 'catch some waves' as she puts it."  
  
"Oh, right," Mark smiled. He and Anne got talking, and then Sam appeared from the water.  
  
"Sam, this is Dr. Sloan. He lives in the house over here."  
  
"Dr. Sloan, hi," Sam greeted him, "I am sure I heard that name yesterday. On the news, that was it! Steve Sloan is trying to solve a murder and is appealing for witnesses."  
  
"That's right. The one on the train?"  
  
"Yeah. I think I know who did it. It had to be the train-driver, Martin Edwards. He wasn't driving the train with the bomb on it. He had just entered the station, driving the incoming train. The driver is at the front of one train, and the luggage is at the back of the other train. He could have pushed the train he was driving just close enough to the sabotaged train to jump off, throw the parcel containing the bomb into the luggage car, and jump back into the driver's car on his train. Since the bomb went off half an hour later, you thought that it had to be someone on the train, especially since there was a stop before the bomb went off. I got all the newspapers and information I could get, and I thought about someone not on the train, and came up with Edwards. Did you get any of that?"  
  
"Quiet, Sam," her mother warned.  
  
Mark, on the other hand, considered this thought. It did seem possible. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that it was true. It had to be Edwards. He turned to Sam.  
  
"Sam, you are thirteen, right? For thirteen, you have a smart mind in there."  
  
"Thanks, Dr. Sloan. For a doctor, you're okay."  
  
"Call me Mark," Dr Sloan said.  
  
"Okay, Mark." The Mitchells got to know Dr Sloan well over the next week or so. They would run into each other on the beach mostly. Mark offered to let Anne park her car in front of Mark's house and access the beach through the back.  
  
"Thanks for the coffee, Mark," Anne said as she was leaving after a day at the beach with Sam, "Sam, I'll just turn the car around. Go and get your board, would you?" Mrs Mitchell went out to the car. Mark was just tiding up the cups when he heard an explosion very close to his house.  
  
"Anne?" he ran out of the front door, but it was too late.  
  
  
  
"What?" Sam was lying on the Sloans' couch, feeling dazed. Then she remembered, and shuddered.  
  
"Hello, anyone?" Sam called out. An unfamiliar voice answered.  
  
"Who's there?" A man with a pistol to his left shoulder came through from the back. Sam raised her hands.  
  
"Don't shoot me!" Sam whispered, her voice filled with fear.  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing here?" The man wanted to know. The front door opened.  
  
"Steve, put the gun away. I can see you both got off to a good start." Mark said as he threw his car keys on the hall table.  
  
"Sorry. Dad, who is she?" Steve asked.  
  
"Steve, this is Sam Mitchell. Sam, this is my son, Steve. Sam, why don't you turn on the TV and find something good to watch, okay?" Mark ushered Steve into the kitchen.  
  
"Steve, you remember I told you about Anne and Sam Mitchell? I saw them again this afternoon on the beach. Sam went to get her board whilst Anne went to start the car. Someone had planted a bomb in Anne's car, and it went off. Right now, Sam has no relatives at all. That's why she is staying here for the moment."  
  
"Thanks for asking me first, Dad," Steve said with little feeling in his voice. Then he remembered. "She's the one who is trying to play detective, isn't she?"  
  
"Steve," Mark said dryly, "to Sam, it is not a game. She keeps herself out of danger, and still manages to solve most of the cases she hears about on TV. She has a quick mind. Don't start depriving her of it when she is only thirteen." With that, Mark walked out of the room to check on Sam and tell her about what happened to her mother. Steve sighed. Sure, he felt sorry for Sam, but if she stayed here, then she might get in the way. Why me, thought Steve as he poured himself a cup of coffee and stared out to the sea.  
  
Sam stayed in the spare room of the Beach House. She loved it there. It was warm, dry, and as near to the sea as she could get. At first, she tried talked to Steve, but sensing the tension that was there, she gave up and spent most of her time either in her room or on the beach. Mark was worried about Sam.  
  
"She talks to me, but not a lot," Mark told Amanda and Jesse in the Doctors' Lounge, "she just keeps herself to herself."  
  
"She is afraid of something," Amanda said, "and you have to ask her what. Why don't Jesse and I visit her, and maybe she'll say what's bothering her."  
  
"Yes, do that," Mark said cheerfully, "and Amanda, bring CJ along. Sam adores little kids."  
  
"She'd better be careful with him," Amanda said protectively as Jesse and Mark laughed.  
  
"I'll bring my surf-board," Jesse said, "This girl seems to spend half her life in the sea. That'll be where I come in."  
  
"Right. On Saturday, at 3pm should be good. You're all free then?" They agreed, and it was settled.  
  
At the beach house, a day before Jesse and Amanda were due to meet the girl, Sam was thinking hard. Who would want to kill mom, she thought. She thought of something. At her house was a desk. In that desk was an envelope containing papers that Sam was never to see. Sam wondered if answers would be in there. The searching had stopped in Sam's house, so she was free to go in there and have a look around. Sam knew where the key to the desk was, and she had a house key. Sam wrote a note to Mark for when he came home, saying that she had gone back to her house to pick up a few things, which wasn't really lying.  
  
Sam picked up her bike and peddled non-stop to her house. She unlocked the front door and went in. So many memories came back to Sam, filling her eyes with tears, but she fought back, keeping her mind on the task in hand. She went to the desk, picked up the envelope, made sure it was the right one, and picked up a few clothes before leaving the house almost untouched. She didn't want anyone to know about the papers until she herself had looked at them. They may not have any answers, she thought. But then, they might.  
  
Sam re-entered the house, and saw that no one had come back. She tore up the note she had left, and locked herself in her room to look through the papers. What she found was a great shock to her.  
  
"I had a father called Peter Buchen. Mom said that my Dad was William Mitchell and he had died a bit before I was born, in a car crash." Sam read on. There was a newspaper cutting, and then a hand-written note. The newspaper article said that William Mitchell had died in a car-crash in March of the year Sam was born. The note said, "When Will found out what I did, he got drunk and drove away. His car crashed. He came back to me. He was very burnt all down his left side. He said to keep a picture of himself as he was before, and to take a Polaroid of himself with burns, and to never forget what I had driven him to." Sam looked at the photos. William looked all right until the car-crash. She looked at the Polaroid. Her face screwed up. She'd never forget his face in a long time. "He left for the last time," the note continued "and I never saw him again. I know he is still out there, somewhere."  
  
Sam's jaw had dropped open. Mom must have had an affair with Peter, and become pregnant, and then William found out, thought Sam as she put the evidence away. A thought struck her. Suppose, just suppose, that this William came back for revenge after thirteen years. The marriage certificate says that William and Anne were married on the thirteenth of February. "That's the day that mom died," exclaimed Sam out loud. She heard a voice. Steve's voice. He rapped on the door to come in. Sam couldn't hide the evidence. Not enough time to gather up all the papers. She just shrugged her shoulders and unlocked the door for Steve. He saw the bed and instantly looked over the papers.  
  
"Where did you get these?" He asked.  
  
"I went to mom's house and got them."  
  
"Why didn't you tell me about these? You have some explaining to do, young lady." Steve saw Sam slightly trembling but ignored it.  
  
"I just remembered, when you were out. I remembered Mom had stuff in her desk that she didn't want me to see. I thought that it might help the case. I was going to give it to you when I got back. If you look properly and think, then you could have a lead." Steve went through the papers. He looked at Sam.  
  
"Okay, we have a lead here. William Mitchell. It shouldn't be too hard to find him." And with that, Steve left, taking the envelope and contents with him.  
  
"No thanks?" thought Sam as she stared out the window and saw Steve's truck drive off towards the Station. Sam hoped that Steve would catch him. Sam also hoped that she could beat him up after what he did to her mother.  
  
  
  
"I'll get it," Sam yelled as she heard someone knock on the door. She saw Dr. Travis, Dr. Bentley, and a cute little boy.  
  
"Come in," Sam said, leading them in. He saw that Dr. Travis had a wetsuit and a surfboard with him.  
  
"Hi," Mark said, coming out of the kitchen, "Sam, this is Jesse Travis, Amanda Bentley, and her son, CJ."  
  
"Hi," Sam said shyly. She couldn't think of much else to say to them.  
  
"CJ, say hi to Sam," Amanda said to him.  
  
"Hi, Sam," CJ said, holding his arms up in the air, wanting to be picked up by Sam, who did so, making CJ giggle. Knowing that CJ was in safe hands, Amanda followed Jesse and Mark through to the kitchen.  
  
"Mark, do you think that Sam and I could go surfing a bit later?" Jesse begged.  
  
"Well, it is a bit stormy out there, so be careful, okay?"  
  
"Sure will, Mark," Jesse said excitedly. He hadn't been surfing yet since October, since winter had set in. Now it was mid March, and it would be okay with wetsuits.  
  
  
  
"Okay, Sam, go get a wetsuit on. I'm gonna take you surfing." Sam couldn't wait. Finally, someone apart from Mark was taking a real interest in her. She got her wetsuit on over her swimsuit, and grabbed her board before joining Jesse down by the shore.  
  
"Sure this weather isn't gonna be to hard for you?" Jesse yelled through the howling of the wind.  
  
"No, it's fine," Sam replied. For about half an hour, Sam and Jesse rode the waves. The storm was growing increasingly worse, but in the sea, the two didn't notice it. Then, as she was chasing her board towards the beach, Sam noticed someone. She went pale, but remained calm.  
  
"Jesse," Sam said as she caught up with him, "listen to me. When I say now, take a deep breath, grab my hand, and keep swimming forward until you feel like you need breath. When you go, squeeze my hand really hard. Don't ask questions. I'll explain later. Let's just say that our lives depend on it." Jesse understood, and sensed the fear in her voice and her face, so did as he was told.  
  
"Now!" screamed Sam as a wave swallowed them up. Sam and Jesse swam forward until Sam could not take it anymore, and had to breathe. She squeezed Jesse's hand hard, and came up for breath. Sam looked round behind her, and her face fell. "Too late," she said, seeing someone swim towards her.  
  
Meanwhile, in the Beach House, Steve returned from the station.  
  
"He's around here," Steve said, "Anne's murderer is around here. And he's out to get Sam. We have to look for him."  
  
"Steve, slow down," Mark said, "where is Anne's murderer, and what is their name?"  
  
"William Mitchell, now known as Patrick Jones, is on the Beach." He thought, and then ran out of the door and down the balcony, and noticed Sam and Jesse's boards lying on the shore. He looked under the house. He saw a canvas bag with stuff in. He looked through the bag. Mark and Amanda followed, bringing CJ with them. The storm had cleared up, and the sea was fairly calm now.  
  
Mark, Steve and Amanda searched under the balcony, looking for evidence to show that Jones did it.  
  
"This would be pretty good evidence," Mark said, picking up a book he had found. It was all about making car bombs.  
  
"Keep that," Steve said, flicking through the book. They searched for another twenty or so minutes.  
  
"Uncle Jesse!" CJ cried, toddling over to him. Amanda turned around to look, and screamed. Mark and Steve rushed over to where Jesse lay, lifelessly. Mark checked him over.  
  
"Ambulance, Steve," Mark said as Steve took his phone out of his pocket. "There's a really faint pulse," Mark said, "slight signs of breathing. Possibly two broken ribs and a concussion." Mark watched over Jesse until the ambulance arrived to take him away. Mark went with him. Steve looked around on the beach before he and Amanda followed in Amanda's car. He saw a message in a glass bottle. It read:  
  
"I have got Sam. You can have your friend back. I'll keep Sam for five days. I'll take good care of her. After that, who knows what might happen?" Steve hung his head. Maybe, just maybe, he thought, there was still a chance for Sam. Steve really did like Sam, but he found it hard to show it. Steve made up his mind to find Sam, and to bring her back alive and well. For now, he thought, there was another friend in need. He got in the car and travelled to the hospital.  
  
  
  
Jesse was in a critical condition. After he left ER, he was in a dark room with many computers monitoring him, and keeping him alive. He had taken in a lot of water into his lungs, and therefore found it very difficult to breathe, even after the water had been removed. He had two broken ribs, which were very close to puncturing his lung. He was lucky that they didn't. He also had a severe concussion. Amanda, Mark and Steve all took turns watching over him. They could hardly tolerate just watching Jesse in such a state.  
  
After three days, Jesse had made some progress, and woke up. Steve was sitting with him. He paged both Amanda and Mark to take a look at Jesse.  
  
"Steve?" Jesse had his eyes half-open, and was finding it hard to focus on something.  
  
"It's okay, Jess," Steve reassured him. "You're gonna be okay."  
  
"Jesse?" Mark walked in, followed by Amanda, "how do you feel?"  
  
"Tired, dizzy, and my ribs hurt."  
  
"Okay," Dr Sloan glanced over Jesse's chart, "Jesse, you have to tell us what happened. In the sea."  
  
Jesse thought for a moment. In the sea? Then he remembered. He yelled out at the top of his voice "Oh my God!"  
  
"Jesse," Mark tried to calm Jesse down, "Jess, calm down. Tell us what happened. Slowly and calmly, tell us what happened."  
  
Jesse was shaking uncontrollably now. "Okay, okay," he tried to calm himself, "Sam saw something. She said 'hold my hand. Swim forward. When you run out of breath, squeeze my hand hard.' So I did, only she ran out of breath first. We surfaced. Sam and I turned around, and saw this guy swimming towards us. He had really bad burns all down his left side. He saw me with Sam. Sam tried to tell me to swim for my life. I tried to, but the guy grabbed my leg. He had a glass paperweight with him. He used it to beat me up. My head and my ribs, that's where he aimed for. I was sort of half-conscious. Sam tried to drag me back to the shore. She got halfway there before I went unconscious. It was horrible. I have to get Sam back. That guy is capable of doing anything to Sam."  
  
"Okay, Jess," Steve said, "we have our murderer. Now, I'm going to find Sam. She'll be safe."  
  
"I'm coming too," Jesse lifted the covers off of himself, and tried to get out of bed. He struggled with standing upright, and was caught by Steve.  
  
"Jesse, you are staying put, and that is final," Mark said firmly. Jesse was too weak to argue. Within moments of being placed back in bed, Jesse was in a deep sleep again.  
  
"I'll watch over him," Amanda said, "my shift ends about now."  
  
"Thanks Amanda," Mark said, "be careful, Steve. Steve, where are you going to start looking?"  
  
"Back under the house," Steve said, "to look for some more clues."  
  
"Okay, see you later." Mark knew that Steve really did care for Sam. By helping her, that was a way that he showed it.  
  
"Amanda?" Jesse said, waking up a day later. Amanda had been and gone from looking after Jesse many times. She had stayed at the hospital for over two days without going home, much to the glee of her babysitter, who had her eyes on a new pair of shoes. The doctor was asleep in the chair next to Jesse's bed. There were fewer wires attached to Jesse now. He felt a lot better. The buzz in his head was gone, and he could breathe easily now. He still had a slight pain in his ribs, but that would pass, he thought. He wanted to get some proper clothes on, not the plastic hospital gown that he was wearing now. He got up out of bed, and headed towards the cupboard in his room. Phew, he thought, as he found real clothes in there. He put them on, and walked around the room for a bit, to get his muscles working again properly. Good, he thought. I don't feel dizzy, and I can actually move. What was he going to do now?  
  
"Jesse," Amanda was about to scold him, "get back in bed at once."  
  
"Amanda, I feel fine," Jesse said, "look, I am fine." He did a star jump to prove it, trying to hide the pain on his face as his ribs moved.  
  
"I'll let Mark be the judge of that," she said, paging him. He arrived five minutes later, slightly astounded to see Jesse up and about.  
  
"And you are sure you feel okay?" Mark said.  
  
"Fine," Jesse replied, "I am going to look for Sam now."  
  
"Slow down, Jess," Mark said, concerned, "you don't know where to start."  
  
"Yes, I do," Jesse replied, "I'll be back later to fill in the forms." With that, he walked out of the room. Amanda and Mark knew better than to stop him. They didn't think Jesse was as strong as he was now.  
  
"I think he feels that it's his fault that he lost Sam," Mark said, "but it's not. It could have happened to anyone."  
  
"He'll be okay, Mark," Amanda assured the fretting doctor, "Jesse is strong inside. He'll be okay." I hope you're right, thought Mark as he left the room.  
  
Jesse knew exactly where to get Sam. He made up his mind to bring Steve with him. Maybe, thought Jesse, Steve and Sam might get along better if he did that. Jesse eventually found Steve, who was sitting at his desk slurping coffee.  
  
"Jesse," Steve said, surprised, "you should be relaxing in a hospital bed, not chasing me all over town."  
  
"Steve," Jesse caught his breath, "I know where Jones has Sam."  
  
"Where?" Jesse explained to Steve where.  
  
"Okay, I'm going to get a diving suit. Meet me on the beach outside the house."  
  
"Get me one too," Jesse called after him.  
  
As Steve went to get the suits, he thought about how much he wanted to get Sam back. He knew why he didn't like her as much as he should have. She was too like he was as a boy. He wanted to get involved, even if it meant going behind elder's backs. Steve couldn't help feeling sorry for the girl. He had to get her back alive. He would never forgive himself if he didn't.  
  
"Here, put this on," Steve said as he handed Jesse the suit. Steve still wasn't sure that Jesse was strong enough to go swimming, but Jesse had to help find Sam.  
  
Steve followed Jesse as he led the way to an underground cave. They swam upwards to a hollow where they could take off of their masks and talk.  
  
"Sam pointed it out to me as we were swimming away from Jones," whispered Jesse, "I knew that Jones would take her here."  
  
"So where is she?" Steve asked impatiently. Jesse pointed to an opening just big enough to crawl through. They crawled through, and saw Jones with his back to them the other side, verbally torturing Sam. Sam saw them, but tried hard to keep a straight face. She was tied up, and resting on a higher ledge. Steve got out his revolver and pointed it to Jones' back.  
  
"Freeze, Jones. Stay perfectly still, and raise your hands in the air. You are under arrest for murder." Steve cuffed Jones, and set him down by the entrance to the cave. "Keep an eye on him, Jesse," Steve said. He went over to Sam, and untied her.  
  
"Hi, Steve," Sam said cautiously, "Thanks for coming to find me."  
  
"Sam," Steve began, "I'm sorry for the way I've been acting to you. I didn't hate you or anything; it just took some time to get used to you. I can't say why, because I am ashamed to. Please forgive me. I'll be a lot nicer to you." Sam hugged Steve. They heard a loud yelp from behind them. Jones had found a way to stand up, and he had run at Jesse, and aimed for the ribs. Jesse fell to the ground, groaning about his ribs. Sam had had it with this guy. She ran straight for him and body-slammed him into the wall.  
  
"You do *NOT* go around beating up my friends, okay?" she hollered to him as he sat on his back. Steve tended to Jesse, who was unconscious again, through pain.  
  
"I told him not to come down here, but would he listen?" Steve mumbled and muttered. He wondered how he was going to get Jesse, this criminal and Sam out of the hole on his own.  
  
"Sam, you take Jesse, slowly and carefully, to the surface, but quickly. I'll take our friend here," Steve said, referring to Jones. They made it back to the beach, where Amanda and Mark were waiting. They took Jesse to hospital, again, and Steve took the station.  
  
Mark, Amanda, Steve and Sam were all present when Jesse woke up again. "Here, again?" Jesse asked, bewildered.  
  
"How are the ribs?" Mark asked.  
  
"Sore," Jesse replied, "is everyone else okay?"  
  
"Yes, everyone else is fine," Steve replied.  
  
"I still have one question," Sam said, "Where am I going to live now?"  
  
"Well," Mark said uncertainly as he looked at Steve.  
  
"With us, of course," Steve replied. Everyone apart from Sam looked at Steve in astonishment. Wasn't this the Steve who five days ago treated Sam very, very frostily?  
  
"You heard me right," Steve assured them, "Sam, get the rest of the stuff from your house, and move it in." Steve got a call from his cell-phone. "Be right there," he replied. He said goodbye to everyone, and was just about to leave when he saw someone behind him.  
  
"Have you got another case? Can I come and help you solve it?" Sam asked eagerly.  
  
Steve thought for a moment, and said, "I'll bring some evidence home for you to have a look at." And he left, smiling.  
  
  
  
The End  
  
  
  
Another AN: If you liked this, I got another few stories from my early days before I signed up to fanfiction.net. I'll post some soon :) 


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